Element ary, my dear Watson
by musicandme37
Summary: 'He hoped that his dear Watson would see that it was all elementary. That he couldn't live without his very own personal balance of nature: his four friends and elements.' Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall.


This is something that came to me moments after watching The Reichenbach Falls episode tonight. And good lord wasn't it an amazing episode? Sad, frustrating, thrilling. Pure brilliance.

I hope you enjoy.

I would also quickly like to thank everyone who has favourited and reviewed my story 'Baskerville Nightmares' :)

Title: Element-ary, my dear Watson.

Warnings: Spoilers for Series 2 Episode 3 'The Reichenbach Falls'.

Pairings: Hinted Sherlock/John.

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or it's characters.

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><p>James Moriarty was undeniably a genius. But he was also a madman. And this combination was a dangerous one, making the man a force not to be reckoned with.<p>

But, Sherlock being Sherlock, had attempted to play the game that that force had created.

And it seemed that for the first time in Sherlock Holmes' life, he was losing.

_"Let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't."_

_"John."_

_"Not just John. Everyone."_

_"Mrs Hudson."_

_"Everyone."_

_"Lestrade."_

_"Three bullets. Three gunmen. Three victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested. You can torture me. You can do anything you like with me. But nothing is going to prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die. Unless…"_

_"I kill myself. Complete your story."_

But that was what was so funny.

Sherlock couldn't win this game. But he wouldn't lose either.

Sherlock wasn't winning the game. Moriarty shoving the gun to his own head and pulling the trigger, and Sherlock's reputation in tatters meant that he had by no means won the game. Also, three of his friends were currently being aimed at by gunmen.

But that was the point. Only _three_ of his friends were in danger.

Moriarty had believed Sherlock to be more of social reject than he really was.

He hadn't expected the fourth. He had forgotten about Molly.

And that's why Sherlock wasn't losing the game either. He wasn't going to die.

He wasn't winning. He wasn't losing. He was cheating.

Because Sherlock Holmes was also a force not to be reckoned with or underestimated.

Sherlock was a man that needed others to rely on, believe in, need and help him. And for that every great power needs its elements.

Lestrade was Water. He was the one who broke through from the ice of the police force, from the likes of Donovan and Anderson. He was the calming influence when he was required to be. But he could also be the crashing waves that controlled those around him. He was the one who carried Sherlock along on many a case, relying on Sherlock to assist with whatever he wanted investigating. In turn, Lestrade would change course, flow in a different direction, against the orders of his superiors for Sherlock. And right now there was a man watching Lestrade, fingers ready to snatch up his gun and aim it into the office of the Detective Inspector.

Mrs Hudson was Earth. She was unchangeable. She was what kept Sherlock grounded because Mrs Hudson meant home. Mrs Hudson cared for him in a way that his parents never had. She _was_ 221b Baker Street. Mrs Hudson was kind and loving, despite how much she scolded him for his various flaws. Above all, Mrs Hudson believed in Sherlock. She trusted him to always make the right decisions when the moment required it. She was naïve and trusting. And right now she was probably giving a cup of tea to the man who was about to kill her.

John was Fire. Was the passion and heart. In fact, many a time, Dr John Watson played the part of Sherlock's heart, caring more than Sherlock about what the press where saying about Sherlock. And John owned Sherlock's heart too. Sherlock thought John secretly knew it, and had known it all along. John was Sherlock's love. And in turn, John needed Sherlock. He was Sherlock's friend. Sherlock's companion. His fire. His will to keep going. And right now a gunman was awaiting John's inevitable arrival at the hospital. He would see Sherlock on the roof, teetering on the edge. The brink. He would see Sherlock in the state of acceptance just before the fall.

The fake fall.

Because Sherlock Holmes needed a fourth element. The element Moriarty, and sometimes even Sherlock himself, had overlooked.

Molly was Air. She was the see-through one. She was the one who was always there, reliable in the background but went so unnoticed and unappreciated. Transparent like air. But she was always there to help. She was the one who bought Sherlock presents and fancied him regardless of his constant rudeness and would give up dinner dates to spend hours in the labs with his ignorance and frustration. She was the one Moriarty had taken out on three dates and used her to get to Sherlock. Yet she had been the one Moriarty had forgotten about. But no-one should ever forget Molly Hooper. She was Air. She was what was going to keep Sherlock alive.

Of course, there was Sherlock's brother Mycroft. But if Sherlock included Mycroft Holmes to his list of elements he would have to move away from the classical four elements, and instead convert to the Wu Xing of Chinese Philosophy, which had five phases. Because in that case, Mycroft would be the metal. The cold, calculating, hardened metal. The one who was willing to give Moriarty the information about Sherlock he wanted for a key code that had never even existed. But Sherlock wasn't going to add Mycroft to his list of elements, not only because he was feeling rather betrayed by his dearest brother right now, but also because in Wu Xing wood is considered an element instead of air, and Sherlock very much needed his air – Molly – in order for his plan to succeed.

She was the one friend Sherlock had that wasn't currently targeted by a gunman.

She was the one who was going to help Sherlock escape this game.

But there was no time for those thoughts anymore, because there John was, getting out of his taxi.

Sherlock lifted his phone to his ear. Time to say goodbye.

But this goodbye wasn't going to be forever.

He just hoped that John would one day understand and forgive him.

He hoped that his dear Watson would see that it was all elementary. That he couldn't live without his very own personal balance of nature, his four friends and elements, so he was going to pretend to die for them.

This was his sacrifice.

His great fall.

But this was by no means the end of the Sherlock Holmes.

This was merely the beginning.

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><p>I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you very much for reading!<p>

Reviews are very much appreciated :)

mnm37 x


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